Every time I go to some big thing at Centre–a guest lecturer, a speech, a play of some sort–I always feel invigorated and yet slightly frustrated at the same time. There’s always some incredible insight, or some important message, and I feel wiser for the world. But at the same time, I am always frustrated that I can’t hunt down every person I’ve ever known offline/online/whatever in that exact moment, and drag them there and sit them down and say “You need to see this.” It frustrates me that I can barely convey the message, which is reinforced so much by the experience, which is lost on me all together. It’s not even enough to say “this is an awesome play, go see the movie,” because the experience is just not the same. I suppose it wouldn’t even be the same to drag friends from across the country, it’s more forceful to sit and watch people you know in love in a place where you live draw frighteningly realistic parallels and make you think. The physical presence provided by theater is enough to drive any wavering point straight home.

The Laramie Project was beautiful and intense. Jeff’s sleepless nights and the grueling work of the cast and crew paid off, and I believe it was a very important thing that happened on that stage. It made me think a lot–about hate, about people, about how we do important things in theater, about how we do important things in art. Overall, though, the biggest impact on me was the idea of community.

I’ve never been one to deny the fact that I live in a college bubble, and more often a smaller, more personal bubble. I always say “I live in Louisville, but go to school in Danville,” or sometimes even opt out of the town name and just say “Centre.” I need to realize that I live here, this is where I live, this is a community which I am part of, and I need to take responsibility for that.

There are things going on here that I found out about just last night, that I had *no* idea about. There are places I’ve never been, and my interaction with the people has been limited to say the most. So here’s Wertle’s message of the day:

Physical community is important. No matter how detached you feel from it, how different you are, how little you could care about what’s going on down the street, YOU are a part of your community. You need to find a facet where you can affect it, and you need to take responsibility, because you live there, you are a part of it, you have a chunk of it to uphold. So, off with you now! Go on, take a look outside your window and see what you can. Take a few steps outside the bounds of your campus and figure out where you live. It’s important.

As for me, I have a few goals to set for myself regarding my final year and a half at Centre…or rather, in Danville.

This weekend, I’m staying in bed most of the day, under the watchful eye of the drama department. The drama department, in spite of the amount of drama that goes on within, is a good group of people, and perhaps the best at taking care of one another. Perhaps it’s just me, or perhaps it’s a running trend among art majors, but I tend to neglect myself at times.

So, for the past two or three weeks, I shrugged off my drama friends’ demands that I go to the wellness center, attributing consistent body pain to “just being sore” from glassblowing or some such, or maybe carrying one too many heavy things, who knows.

It wasn’t until yesterday, when my bones felt like they were on fire, that the drama department took action and forced me to go to the wellness center (Matthew told me that he was calling up Sheldon to say that if I showed up to painting class that day, I was to be sent directly to the student health center, and Jeff made sure I didn’t escape, and walked me over there. I went, got a check up, pulled out of my glass slot for the evening, and have since been watched over and mothered about by Brendan and D Flo and whomever else, to make sure I stay put and stay rested.

As such, I’m sitting and fretting about the work I should be getting done in the studio, but am getting some needed rest. I really think there should be a Drama Department to Art Department caretaker program, because I know *I* really have a tendency to shrug off potential threats of bodily harm. I don’t even realize how bad it is, until Brendan says “when you’re in too much pain to ride your bike there’s something wrong, and it’s not just lifting heavy things.” No wonder there are starving artists, we probably just shrug it off until it’s too late to do anything ^_^;;;

I suppose it works both ways, I tend to have a watchful motherly eye myself, just not for my own sake. Perhaps it’s the entire college environment, to need to take care of each other, so it doesn’t kill us all.

Well, it turns out that no kittens plummeted, though the comp sci kitten may have been bashed about a bit while being dragged back up. I talked to Dr. Shannon and she said that if I don’t turn in my lab on time, it’s not the end of the world. It’s fine, I guess, I’m doing well in that class, one poor lab grade won’t kill me.

To people entering college soon: Talk to your professors often.

In other news, I think the going-ons wore me a bit thin, and I was a little down today. Jeff was a great comfort, though, in my wonders about identity and social place. He told me that I have a better sense of myself than most everyone here, and that was a startling compliment to me. It gave me lots to think about and cheered me a bit. Go Electrician Solidarity!

It was also a cheer-up that Tommy ran around outside with me tonight(morning). The weather was beautiful, the first real autumn day stuck in after a long span of early winter.

All and all, I think I’ll survive the play next week.